


Witch Hazel

by alorarose



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Crack, F/M, Gen, Skinny Dipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:27:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alorarose/pseuds/alorarose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sheriff encounters a pissed off witch in the grocery store parking lot and ends up sixteen again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Witch Hazel

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is written for Lissa for this most awesome Tashmas. Thank you to Tash for awesome amounts of brainstorming and to Stephanie for being a super awesome beta.

Even before he became aware of the supernatural happenings around him, Sheriff John Stilinski had had crazy days. This day, however, took all the cake his son wouldn't let him eat. 

He wondered briefly if he was dreaming but he'd never had dreams this vivid and he'd pinched himself quite hard. It started with an encounter in the parking lot outside the grocery store. It reminded him of those movies they aired during Halloween. The ones where the witches all had crazy hair in desperate need of brushing and wore black. All that was missing were the warts and the broom, and he had initially been proud of himself for being able to keep that remark to himself. Clearly, this was proof that a brain to mouth filter came with age. 

His first instinct _should_ have been to run, but he was never one to run away from the situations he faced. It was unclear whether this witch was unhappy with him in particular or suffered from a general unhappiness. What _was_ clear, though, was that the Sheriff was in the wrong place at the worst possible time. He didn't even remember what it was he said to piss her off, and it was definitely _something_ because he'd toppled over with the blast from her spell. 

He was unaware that anything was actually wrong until he'd gotten home. He now stood in front of a mirror that hung on the wall in the hallway, grocery bags forgotten in a heap on the floor, and he simply stared. "Great," he muttered. "Just great." He almost missed the sound of the car door slamming and by the time he registered that the noise came from _his_ driveway and not the neighbors, his son was in the front door with Scott close behind him. The next few moments were a blur. His mouth had opened to say something when Stiles started yelling. Scott was on him, pinning him to the floor in an uncomfortable position and the questions came flying through the air. 

"What are you doing in my house and.. what the hell, did you steal my dad's clothes?" Stiles was looming over him and John had to angle his head painfully to look up at him. "Who are you? You know, they have homeless shelters and stuff, you don't need to break into people's houses to steal old people clothes."

"Old people clothes?" John's eyes narrowed at his son. "These aren't old people clothes. These are _normal_ clothes!"

"Seriously? This is the defense you're giving after breaking into the sheriff's house. Yeah, that's right, the _sheriff_ ," Stiles said firmly. 

"I didn't break in," John sighed deeply. He tried wiggling out of Scott's grip, but the werewolf had him pinned down quite effectively. "Scott, let me up."

"How do you know my name?" Scott sniffed lightly, trying to pinpoint his scent. "Stiles, he smells like your dad."

"Of _course_ he smells like dad, he's wearing his clothes!" his arms flailed. 

"Or, you know, because I am your father," John threw out there, not that he thought Stiles would believe him right now. 

"You, are a teenager," Stiles glared. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I'm calling dad."

John's phone rang from his pants pocket and Scott flinched in surprise. 

"You _stole_ my dad's phone, too!?" Stiles threw his hands up again. 

"I overestimated your intelligence. For that, I am sorry," John mumbled. "Stiles, calm down and use your brain for _two seconds_. Your best friend is a werewolf and you can't possibly believe that I'm your freaking father?"

"His heartbeat is steady," Scott said. "He's telling the truth, Stiles."

"He's telling the truth," Stiles repeated in a soft mumble. "Dude! What the hell! You're pinning my dad to the floor!"

Scott rolled his eyes then apologized to the Sheriff, helping him back to his feet. John shook his head, muttering a "don't worry about it," and grabbed the forgotten bags of groceries so he could put the milk in the fridge. 

"You just walk away?" Stiles rushed after his father, crowding in his space to get a better look at him. "This is so weird, your wrinkles are all gone."

John fixed him with a skeptical look as he opened the door to the refrigerator to put things away. 

"What happened? Are you not going to say _anything_?" Stiles began pacing back and forth from the sink to the kitchen table. "People don't just turn into teenagers, randomly."

"You honestly think I don't know that?" John laughed. "Son, you might have only recently informed me of the shit that's happening in this town, but I have long since learned to never discount any possibility."

"Well?" Stiles turned back to him and vibrated with anticipation.

John's head rolled along with his eyes. "There was a witch in the parking lot of the grocery store, and before you say anything, I know, I should have just walked away."

"How'd you know she was a witch?" Scott had been standing along the wall by the entranceway into the kitchen, trying to not be in the way of anyone. 

"She reminded me of Witch Hazel without the green skin," John's index finger moved in a circle in a gesture to his face.

"Witch _who_?" Stiles' eyes narrowed.

"Witch Hazel? Looney Tunes? Nevermind," John dismissed it with a handwave. "I have been remiss in your upbringing. It doesn't matter how I knew she was a witch, could anyone else have done _this_?" he gestured to himself.

"No, but knowing who it was helps us figure out how to reverse it. You _do_ want to reverse it… right? Not that you don't make a fine looking teenager," Stiles said quickly to cover himself.

John threw him a skeptical look. "Been there, done that. I have no intentions of repeating the 'awkward years'." he used air quotes. "Not that the increase in energy isn't the best feeling _ever_."

"Yeah well, it's creeping me out," his son muttered.

"We should call Deaton, see if he knows anything," Scott suggested. "We'll figure it out, Mr. Stilinski, don't worry."

"Worried is something I am _not_ ," John nodded then grinned. "I plan on enjoying this while it lasts."

"What? Dad, what does that even _mean_?"

His grin only widened," I'm going out."

"What? Dad! Change your clothes, you can't go out looking like that! Don't say you're related to me!"

"Nothing _I_ have will fit me," John was halfway out of the kitchen. "I'll just have to borrow something from the pile of clean clothes you have that's been sitting there for two weeks now."

"I will never recover from this," John was already on the staircase when he heard Stiles' complaints and Scott's snort of amusement. Of all the things for his son not to recover from, he chuckled to himself.

~~~

John now understood why Stiles always wore hoodies. They were warm and his hands fit snugly in the front pockets. He'd already stopped to pick up a huge thing of curly fries and they barely made it longer than a half mile walk. The odd expressions of other pedestrians, at him gorging on fries, amused him but didn't slow him down. They were _good_ and he didn't have Stiles yelling at him. Now, he was on his way to one of the larger parks in town. When he was in high school, this on particular park was a popular hang out spot, and if he had to be a teenager again, he would take full advantage.

The park was empty, and that left him feeling relieved. He didn't necessarily want anyone staring at him, not that people were staring. Well, not for the reasons John imagined. There were a few teenaged girls who stopped him as he walked through the center of town and before he knew what the hell he was doing, he was flirting with them. Hormones were powerful things and he'd forgotten how much they shorted out the brain. It took longer than he would have liked to click with the fact that those were _teenagers_ and he wasn't a teenager. It felt _good_ though.

There was a lake in a fairly secluded spot, in the park, and John made his way there. Many fond memories surrounded this lake, especially with Claudia. He smiled as he watched the water, seeing Claudia splashing around as if it were yesterday. He quickly stripped out of his clothes, down to his bare skin, and waded into the lake. It was cold. It was _very_ cold, but he wanted to do this. He swam around the lake. He allowed his mind to drift, it was relaxing, and he had to catch himself numerous times when he ended up floating around on his back. No one was around but that didn't mean he wanted to get caught giving everyone a full view.

"Now there's a face I haven't seen in a really long time." 

The voice coming from the shore startled John out of his daze and he turned to look at Melissa. "You should come in and join me," he smiled wide. "The water doesn't feel ice cold anymore."

"I'm sure it doesn't," she laughed. "I'll stay high and dry, thank you."

"Party pooper," John swam toward her. "There was a time you used to skinny dip in this lake, too."

"I remember," she nodded.

He waded through the shallow parts until he was only in knee deep, and smirked as he watched Melissa's eyes move over his body. "You look like you want to join."

"And you look like a teenager swimming naked in a public park, John," her laugh was now an amused chuckle. 

"You want me to arrest myself for indecent exposure?" he snorted. "Not sure that would work so well showing _this_ face in the department."

"I was more thinking about those laws that would not look so kindly on me for swimming naked with a sixteen year old," she pointed out. "Also, it's kind of weird."

"It's not weird."

"Yeah, it's weird," she nodded.

"My son send you after me?" he came completely out of the water, using his hands to slush as much water off his legs as he could before he started getting dressed again. 

"That and, I have to admit, it was morbid curiosity," she leaned over to grab the hoodie and handed it to him when it looked like he was content to stand there shirtless. "Scott talked to Deaton and he has something he thinks might work to turn you back."

John stepped closer to her, taking the hoodie but letting his hand drop to his side. He lifted his other hand and gently stroked his fingers down her cheek. "I don't know," he said softly. "I'm kinda liking this." His eyes searched her face, looking over every feature in a constant reminder of just how beautiful she was.

"John," Melissa's breath came out shaky, but she didn't push his hand away. "We.."

"We can," he brushed his nose against hers. "We totally can."

"We can't," she pulled away from him. A startled sound escaped her throat when he grabbed the sides of her face and kissed her. One hand of long fingers curled around the back of her neck to ensure she wouldn't pull away too quickly and John's entire body tingled in excitement when she didn't. 

She finally pushed him away when his other arm looped around her waist to pull her tightly against him. "John," she said his name firmly, causing him to really look at her. "You," she poked his chest, "are acting like a horny teenager."

"Are you saying that because you aren't interested? Because you totally _are_ ," he smirked at her.

"I am saying that we both have teenaged sons and this is weirding me out," she pointedly made sure her eyes stayed on his face and didn't wander to his still bare chest. 

"That wasn't a no," he flashed her a toothy grin. "Does that mean in thirty years you'd revisit the idea?"

"I don't know," she echoed his grin. "A lot can happen in thirty years."

John's stance shifted awkwardly, his body very much aware of just how badly he wanted to work his way into that silk button down top she wore. "I'm going to remember that," his tongue ran over his bottom lip, the taste of her lipstick still there. 

"We need to go before your son accuses me of enabling you," Melissa turned away from him and he used the moment to quickly run his fingers through his dark curls. She shot a glare over her shoulder. "Put your shirt on. Let's go."

His hand dropped and his whole body slumped as he sighed in defeat.

~~~

"Does it matter what I said to her?" John asked defensively, feeling nervous under the scrutiny of Deaton's gaze.

"I suppose not," Deaton allowed, "it was simply curiosity that made me ask."

"I still don't understand why you're soaking wet," Stiles was staring at him.

"I am _not_ still soaking wet, I've actually dried off some," he shot his son a smug grin. 

"What have you been doing all day?" Stiles' eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

"I think you're forgetting that I'm still the father here, Stiles."

Melissa coughed softly in an attempt to get them all back on task. 

"Yeah, whatever, so how do we get my dad looking like my dad again," Stiles attention turned back to Deaton.

"I still look like me," John snorted, but Stiles ignored him. 

"It's quite simple, really," Deaton held out a vial of an opaque green liquid which John took. "This will negate the deaging spell."

"It's that simple?" Stiles was vibrating with anxious energy and started bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

"Sometimes there are very simple answers to seemingly complex problems," Deaton's stoic expression revealed nothing of what the veterinarian was actually thinking. Stiles scoffed and John rolled his eyes, sharing a look with Melissa. 

"Ok, come on dad, down the hatch," Stiles stepped in front of his dad and pushed at the arm holding the vial. "Chop chop."

"Stiles," John's expression turned from amusement to annoyance. "You are grating on my last nerve."

"Oh good, nice to see that my dad is still in there somewhere after your day of _god knows what_ ," an arm flailed out. "You pigged out, didn't you. I swear to god, Dad-"

John cut him off with a hand gesture. "You need to stop."

"And you need to be my dad again, not some teenager who is suspiciously soaked from head to toe and pigs out on…" he took a step closer and sniffed, " _curly fries_! Salad and green vegetables for a _month_!"

"You are so grounded," John nodded his thanks to Deaton and turned to leave the man's office.

"Where are you even going!" Stiles protested.

"Home," John shot over his shoulder, "unless you want me ruining your clothes."

Stiles threw his hands up in defeat.

~~~

"You should have seen the look on their faces when Scott told me," Melissa took a sip of the wine in her glass and stretched her legs out. She sat beside a no longer deaged John on the porch bench. "You'd think it was the most disturbing thing they'd seen in their lives."

"Scott had me pinned to the hallway floor," John told her. "No matter how many times I see proof of it, I forget how strong werewolves really are."

Melissa shrugged. "Same. It's still weird to think about, so I try not to."

"Wise course of action," he nodded. The two of them fell into a comfortable silence that neither of them rushed to fill. It was nice, being able to just sit there next to her. Things that were said earlier in the day were still on his mind and caused him to glance at her. He caught her looking as well and smiled.

"So," he sidled closer to her. "About those thirty years."

She laughed loudly, a hand covering her face to hide a blush he could still see. "You are incorrigible."

"I know," he grinned, his arm stretching to wrap around her shoulders. She leaned into him, getting comfortable, and he sighed happily.


End file.
